Read Online Dark Reservations by John Fortunato - Free Book Online Page B

marker. Joe took the bag and marker and wrote out the date, time, location, description, and his name.
    Mark photographed the shell. Then Joe dropped it in the bag. Mark pulled out a small stapler to seal it. They would tape it later.
    That routine continued for the next twenty minutes, until Andi called, “I think I found it!”
    Joe and Mark rushed over. On Andi’s tray lay a black-colored chunk of metal: a deformed lead slug.
    â€œLooks like a forty-five.” Mark turned to look at Joe. “Could be your door slug. What do you think?”
    â€œLuck of the Irish, Andi. I owe you a beer.”
    â€œOne? You’re insulting my ancestors.”
    They finished their treasure hunt a half hour later and compared notes on their finds: one lead slug, one shotgun shell, the rusty remains of a rifle trigger and trigger guard, one penny, fourteen bottle caps (mostly found near the vehicle), four pull-tabs (also mostly found near the vehicle), six nuts, two bolts, a three-inch piece of car trim, and one D battery. They bagged and tagged only the slug, shotgun shell, and trigger and guard. Mark pocketed the penny, saying it would be littering if they left it. He didn’t seem to care about the other junk, though.
    The tow truck arrived at four and hauled the vehicle back to the FBI’s holding facility in Albuquerque. They cleared the site at five, which included taking exit photos of the area. Joe planned to catch a late dinner at Mickey’s and then grab a nice long shower. Monday, he would brief Dale.
    When he was on I-40, he called Melissa. It would be close to 7:30 New York time. After his stunt in the woods with the old man, he wanted to hear her voice. She answered on the third ring. In that instant, the tensions of the day—the tensions of the case—fell away.
    S EPTEMBER 27
    M ONDAY , 8:03 A.M.
    P ARKING G ARAGE , H ART S ENATE O FFICE B UILDING , W ASHINGTON , D.C.
    The back door to the Lincoln opened, but Kendall Holmes did not move. His bodyguard waited. In a way, the problem he was dealing with at that moment was partly of his bodyguard’s making. But only partly. Edgerton was the real problem. Always had been.
    Holmes finished typing out an e-mail to Chris Staples on his phone. He would have to meet with Grace Edgerton. A face-to-face would be good. He could promise her quiet support while protecting his public image. A win-win. Then if she survived, he could count on her later. After all, he would have his own campaign to worry about in two months. The big one. He was already getting calls from the party asking him what the fallout would be from the Edgerton debacle. He had to control it. Minimize collateral damage. If not, the party would stop him from running in the primary.
    â€œWere you able to reach out to your friend?” he said to his bodyguard, whose dark, chiseled features reminded Kendall of the rocky formations found throughout the Navajo Nation.
    â€œHe will want a favor later.”
    â€œOf course.”
    S EPTEMBER 27
    M ONDAY , 9:18 A.M.
    B UREAU OF I NDIAN A FFAIRS , O FFICE OF I NVESTIGATIONS , A LBUQUERQUE , N EW M EXICO
    â€œWhy didn’t you call me Saturday?” Dale asked.
    â€œI didn’t want to bother you on the weekend,” Joe said, lying.
    â€œGoddamn it. Who knows about it?”
    â€œAndi, two of her agents, and Bluehorse. Oh, and he briefed his chief.”
    â€œHis chief knew before I did?” A vein stood out along Dale’s temple.
    Joe looked down to hide a smirk. One of Dale’s model cars sat in the middle of the desk, a crumpled polishing rag next to it.
    â€œIs that a Studebaker?”
    Dale swatted away Joe’s hand when he reached for the car. “Don’t fuck around. If this hits the press before Washington knows about it, my ass becomes a target. And so does yours.”
    â€œThen you’d better make some calls. And while you’re at it, why don’t you give this case to